


A Dab Hand at Maths

by Daegaer



Series: Fall from Grace - Hastur and Ligur [7]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bureaucracy, Consensual Violence, Demons, Hell, M/M, Mathematics, accountancy, inappropriate working relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-07
Updated: 2010-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hastur gets round to reading his account books. He is very displeased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dab Hand at Maths

It might be expected, given that the world was made out of water and there were only another three elements to worry about, that the angels given tasks at Creation wouldn't concern themselves overmuch with the niceties of advanced mathematics and theoretical physics.

Of course, anyone who thinks that is ignoring how much of a bugger it is to make an entire universe out of water.

Angels and demons coming from the same origins, it should be no surprise that both of them are pretty dab hands with the sort of maths that goes a little further than trying to come up with a plausible number to supply to an irate partner in place of the real price of a particularly nice pair of shoes.* Hastur's realm was no different - whole regiments of demons worked out to an eye-watering level of accuracy exactly how much Hastur was owed by other Dukes of Hell, while even more demons worked to obscure how much he in turn owed. Given that every great power was doing much the same, finances tended to be rather stagnant, and the only way to really get more than your fair share was to embezzle on a level that matched the Princes, or, less dangerously, to go to war against another department.

Currently, Hastur was reading a scroll proffered by a shaking minion, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"''Ow much?" he said, his voice less of an imposing growl and more of a meek whimper.

The minion drew his attention to the bottom line, and Hastur whimpered again.

"That's an awful lot of resources to 'ave lent Duke Ligur," he said. "Are you sure I okayed this?"

"Your pardon, lord," the minion whispered, producing another scroll, " _this_ is the accounting of what you have lent Duke Ligur. What you have at the moment is what you've spent on, forgive me, lord . . . dinnersandentertainmentsforDukeLigur."

Hastur tore the minion's head off and kicked it across the room.

"Bloody 'Ell!" he shrieked. "Why didn't you bring this to my attention earlier?"

The minion scrabbled round until it found its head and settled it gingerly back on its neck. It got itself to a safe distance and grovelled on the floor.

"Lord, this useless creature informed its immediate superior of this situation! Did he not tell you, lord?"

"No," Hastur growled. "Send 'im in."

"Yessss, lord," the minion hissed eagerly, and slithered away.

A brief spot of highly satisfying disembowelment and demotion later, Hastur arrayed himself in the best attire he had, made sure his guards looked spotless and threatening, and went to pay Ligur a visit. He kept checking that everyone with him looked all right. He might be broke, but that was no reason to look anything less than his best. He scowled as Ligur's guards challenged him and then came to attention, letting him pass. They all looked shiny and well cared for. As well they might, he thought grimly, seeing as how he was subsidising Ligur's expenses. One of Ligur's slaves scampered ahead to announce him, and whimpered gratefully when he kicked it out of the way. Hastur pushed open the doors of Ligur's private apartments, and glared at the smaller demon, who was lounging on his throne, feet up on a rather tall foot-stool.

"Wot d'yer think yer doin'?" Hastur said angrily.

"Solvin' that feller Fermat's last theorem," Ligur said, scribbling on the back of an envelope. "S'a piece of piss, I dunno why he's always goin' on about it."

"Lissen, Ligur," Hastur said. "C'n I get them loans back?"

"Wot, _now?_ " Ligur said.

"Yeah. An' we're goin' ter 'ave ter scale back on dinners out, unless yer goin' ter start payin'."

"But you _like_ payin' for me," Ligur said.

Hastur opened and shut his mouth. It was true, he thought in surprise. He liked giving Ligur treats. Crap. Things were worse than he thought. Well, he'd find some diplomatic way of explaining why it couldn't happen any more.

"I'm broke," he explained.

"Lemme see your accounts," Ligur said, holding out a grimy hand. "C'mon, I ain't got all eternity."

Hastur reluctantly handed the scrolls over, and winced as Ligur read through, whistling appreciatively. Finally the little demon looked up at him, scratched his head vigorously, and grinned a cheerful fang-filled grin.

"I c'n sort this out, easy," Ligur said. "Move in wiv me."

". . . ," Hastur said.

"No, see, it makes sense. We're always spendin' time in each other's palaces, yeah? An' there's the travel times to take into account, and the wastage that them little bastards of yours - an' mine, don't fink mine are any better - get up to the minute they're not bein' micro-terrorised, and --"

"I can't," Hastur said.

"Why not?"

"Well . . . wot'll people _say?_ "

Ligur rolled his eyes. "Wot they _already_ say, Hastur." He let his wings droop limply. "Look, if it worries you, we c'n say we went ter war and I conquered you."

"I don't fink so," Hastur said dryly. "I conquered _you_ , 'ow about that?"

Ligur shook his head. "Come on, Hastur. I ain't makin' this offer every millennium, you know." He looked rather disgruntled, as if he'd made what he thought was a wonderful suggestion and Hastur'd insulted him.

"We could . . . join forces against a common foe?" Hastur said, suddenly worried that Ligur might think he'd gone off him. The prospect of eternity without Ligur hanging round seemed suddenly very long and distressing. "And sort of, er, keep our forces joined because it was efficient?"

"Yeah," Ligur said, sitting upright. "Who'll we combine against? Belial?"

Hastur grinned hungrily. "Let's work our way through a few weaker targets first." He smiled at Ligur's eagerness, and decided the rest of the monetary concerns could be put off for a while in favour of a lengthy and energetic . . . discussion of inter-departmental affairs. It _did_ make sense to combine forces, he thought as he pounced. Sort of, anyway. And it wasn't as if Ligur was suggesting they--

"Are you asking me to marry you?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Fer fuck's _sake_ , Hastur," Ligur gasped. "Can we talk about this later?"

He drove claws into Hastur's leg, which got Hastur's attention nicely back on the task in hand. He was just too suspicious for his own good, he thought. Just because Ligur liked reading contraband women's magazines from Earth and dressed up fancy sometimes, it didn't mean nothing.

Ligur grinned at him, and managed to distract him further. Luckily, the bridal magazines were all safely out of sight.

 

*Both Heaven and Hell claim accountancy as their own.


End file.
